


Summer

by Vera



Series: Summer [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-19
Updated: 2005-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>This is not a story about Neville Longbottom.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Very soon, less than four weeks, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince will be released. It's not a spoiler to suggest that Harry's in for more bad times. There's also been a sweet meme going round - one that asks you to suggest the 'ever after' scenario you see for you OTPs. This is not quite that.
> 
> When I started I meant the first part to be a prelude and the second to be the story, but it turns out the first part is the story and the second a coda. How 'bout that.

This is not a story about Neville Longbottom.

Neville Longbottom, Hero of the Wizarding World, defeated Lord Voldemort in Potions Class on a Wednesday afternoon in his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The students of Hogwarts had woken that morning to a perfectly lovely, sunny day, the kind of day that promised a long summer, the kind of day that said, _come, sit on my grass and dream_ to some students and _aren't you itching for a broom between your legs and the snitch at your fingertips?_ to others. Subsequently, Potions, which came immediately after a lunch eaten under the high, clear blue sky of the hall, was full of restless teenagers stirring, grinding and chopping resentfully. There was no daydreaming in Potions and there was definitely no Quidditch.

Professor Snape was standing at the back of the room, a sharp-eyed vulture, waiting for the slowest student to drop.

"Mister Longbottom, what are you doing with that valerian?" Quite suddenly he was right next to Neville, who narrowly missed slicing off a finger. "Bruise, not dice, you incompetent boy." Wincing, Neville scraped his board clean and grabbed another bunch of herbs. He didn't notice the single drop of blood he squashed into his potion.

After first casting a dubious eye over Harry's neatly sliced frog's ears, Professor Snape swept up to the front of the class and so missed the door opening behind him. By the time he had turned around, Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters were in the dungeon.

Voldemort raised his wand and Snape bent double, dropping his own hastily drawn wand and grasping his forearm, a creaking groan escaping his clenched teeth.

"Traitor," Voldemort said with a voice like a grave's cold breath and the word echoed in whispers through the Death Eaters. Then Voldemort was looming over Harry, reaching out to with hand and wand, but before Harry could do anything, Neville jumped up, pushed him aside. Stumbling they knocked Neville's cauldron to the floor, where it broke on the stone, splashing Voldemort, the potion running over his feet.

"Stupid, clumsy children, I will hold you hostage for Hogwarts and when I control the castle, you will all die - ah, ah! What?" Voldemort's robes were smoking and he was suddenly Harry's height, then shorter. Before anyone could move, Voldemort was a puddle on the floor. His wand floated for a moment and then disappeared with a final wisp of smoke and a rainbow shimmer across the surface.

His last words were, "I'm melting."

Everyone, students, Professor Snape, the Death Eaters, were stunned into immobility by the swiftness of Voldemort's liquid demise. The only sound in the room was the drip drop of potion from the shards of Neville's cauldron to the floor. The moment was broken by the sound of many feet running in the corridor outside. The door to the Potions classroom crashed open to reveal the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and a pile up of witches and wizards behind them as they blocked the door, startled by the scene in the room.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione, Harry and Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape cast the spell at almost the same time, formalising the remaining Death Eaters' gobsmacked defeat.

"Bloody hell," said Ron.

"Oh no," said Neville, "I've broken my cauldron."

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Professor Snape glared at the shocked faces turned to him and rolled his eyes. "You all know the Headmaster will give them back for defeating He Who Is Now A Puddle On My Classroom Floor. Well, don't just stand there. Stack these petrified imbeciles in that corner. Don't step in it, Weasley! Now, Headmaster, I shall have to schedule detention for the class to repeat the work we've just missed. I think it's more than obvious that Mr Longbottom did not make a pain relieving potion"

With an "Accio jar" and muttered spell Professor Snape bottled his former master. Aurors arrived within the half-hour to collect the Petrified Death Eaters. That was that.

And so Neville Longbottom fulfilled a prophecy made before he was born, defeated Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord and He Who Shall Not Be Named, and became the unexpected and occasionally bemused Hero of the Wizarding World.

This is not, however, a story about Neville Longbottom.

***

"He's gone."

"Yes, Harry." Hermione and Harry are sitting on a couch in Gryffindor common room. Ron across from them in an armchair. There's Wizard Chess on the low table between them; Ron is playing Harry. Hermione is reading, and slowly, over the course of the evening, has been becoming horizontal. Any minute she will be checked by Harry's shoulder.

"Really gone. Dead. Melted."

"_Yes_, Harry. It's been a week now, you must stop saying that."

"But, he's gone, Hermione."

"I will stop being your friend if you don't develop a different conversational gambit now. Won't we, Ron?"

Ron doesn't look up from the chess board, but nods, "Absolutely."

The book she's reading, _Felicitas: The Role of Chance in Magical Research_, has slipped to her lap and she's watching Ron's long fingers as he moves his pieces. She likes his freckles, there's something light-hearted about them, something that warms her inside. He's so much taller now, a giant next to her and Harry, more angular, broad-shouldered, and long-haired. He'd dwarf a chair in her parent's trim house but Gryffindor common room has always been the right size for the three of them. Ron makes his move and sits back, smiling, long arms relaxed, forearms resting on his knees. Hermione blames perspective for making her look at his crotch.

She puts a bookmark into her place and leans forward to put the book on the table. When she sits back, Harry has shifted because he's decided to move his bishop, against its advice. He tucks his arm around her so she can continue to lean on him. She sees Ron noticing, watches his faint blush and the crease of his forehead as he looks down at the chess board. One of Harry's knights, captured earlier, is prancing on his knee and Ron's taking his time over the next move.

Hermione is incredibly tired. She knows she should go to bed but she doesn't want to sleep, she wants to stay awake and replay Lord Voldemort melting into an oily puddle at their feet.

She wants to stay near Harry and Ron, knowing that whatever dangers they face tomorrow and the next day, they'll be ordinary dangers like being hit by a bludger or catching a cold, and not a great evil. She feels Harry breathe under her cheek and watches Ron watch them, her eyes half closed.

She wiggles, and when she's comfortable again her hand is resting on Harry's chest. She can feel his heart now. She can feel Harry and she can see Ron.

She knows that part of her exhaustion is relief, immense, sweeping giddy relief because all she has to do now is pass her N.E.W.T.s. The common room looks very ordinary and very beautiful. There's a fire in the fireplace as that day's warmth did not linger once the twilight approached and the mountains cast long friendly shadows across Hogwarts. Summer is coming, and school will be over. Summer is coming, but not yet.


End file.
